Shotgun Bride (30 page)

C
ree shook his head slowly from side to side as he watched the lookout prodding Kade down the hillside, a rifle shoved into the middle of his back. “Amanda Rose, Amanda Rose,” he scolded ruefully. “To think I trusted you.”

Mandy looked on in horror as Kade stumbled ahead of the guard. “You’re hurt,” she said, and took a step toward him, only to be wrenched back to Cree’s side. The smell of Gig’s blood and his fear came out of the darkness like a monster, fairly choking her. She’d hated Curry and would never mourn his passing, but she couldn’t condone that kind of slaughter, either.

Kade actually smiled, the wretched fool, and touched his head. Didn’t he know they might both be dead by sunrise, and wishing for it long before then? “That oughtn’t to surprise you, Mrs. McKettrick,” he said, “since it was your doing.”

Cree took a step toward Kade, his knife drawn. Mandy felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature, which was steadily dropping. “In all the world,” Cree said, “there was one person—
one person
—I could count on. And you turned her against me.” He drew a deep breath, his thumb flicking the soiled blade, drawing his own blood. Mandy had seen him do that on hunting trips, before he skinned out a deer carcass. “You’re going to die for that, McKettrick.”

Kade grinned so broadly that Mandy began to wonder if she’d knocked his brain loose when she’d kicked him. Did he think this was a game? Cree was in deadly earnest. “Is this your Wild West show?” Kade asked. “Looks like a sorry outfit to me.”

Cree’s face contorted. “Shut up.”

“Did you burn out the Fees’ place, Cree?” Mandy demanded. She wanted to know, but she was trying to stall, too.

“Gig set the fire on his own, for fun,” Cree said without looking at her. “I took over his gang while he was in jail.”

“What about those army men, and the gold?”

He smiled. “I did that. Partly for my people, partly for the money.”

“And Angus McKettrick? Cree, why would you want to shoot an innocent man?”

Cree spat, his gaze on Kade, and unwavering. “Innocent? Look around you, Mandy. The McKettricks, and men like them, have taken everything, so there’s nothing left for people like us. I tried to get them fighting against each other—all the big, greedy ranchers. It would have been sweet justice if they’d killed each other.”

Kade still wanted a fight, the damn fool. He’d taken in all Cree had said, and he craved vengeance. “Let’s get to it,” he said, beckoning. “You and me, Lathrop, man to man.”

A murmur rose among the outlaws, pistols were drawn and cocked, and Mandy’s breath got stuck in her throat, sharp as a double-edged sword.

Cree whirled on them, the knife he’d used to butcher Gig gleaming in his fist, swept them all up in a single fevered glance. “One of you moves a muscle—just one—and I’ll cut his liver out and roast it over the fire.”

The men were utterly still.

“Guns on the ground,” Cree hissed, his gaze moving, molten with an ancient hatred, from one man to the next, and the pistols were dropped.

Cree turned back to face Kade. “Fool,” he spat. “Why did you come here? And why the
hell
did you bring Amanda Rose?”

Kade was rolling up his sleeves, his motions as casual as if he’d been about to engage in a friendly brawl with his brothers back of the barn, or out behind the Bloody Basin Saloon, instead of in a battle that would surely end in either his death or Cree’s, if not both. “I came for all the reasons you just named, and because I want that money back.” He swung a glance in Mandy’s direction. “As for bringing the lady, well, that wasn’t my choice to make. She pretty much goes where she pleases, in case you’ve never noticed.”

Cree actually laughed at that, but it was a frightening sound, one Mandy had never heard from him before. When—
when
—had he turned into a madman, and why hadn’t she noticed when it happened?

She stepped forward, caught her brother by the arm. “Stop this while you still can, Cree,” she pleaded. “There’s a posse on its way. Hasn’t there been enough killing?”

With a chilling shriek of rage, he backhanded her hard across the mouth, and she went stumbling, arms flailing, then fell. Kade bellowed like an enraged bull, his whole being bent on murder, and lunged for Cree.

“Kade, no!” Mandy screamed.

Cree swiped at Kade’s middle with the knife, tore his shirt open, if not his belly. Kade was breathing hard, his eyes blazing with contempt as he tracked Cree. Probably because of the blow to his temple, for which he had Mandy herself to thank, his reflexes seemed slower than they might have been.

“You’re nothing but a thieving, murdering coward, little warrior,” Kade taunted. “Why, without that blade in your hand, you’d be just another man. And not much of one at that.”

Mandy scrambled to her feet, edged around to where she could see both men clearly. “For God’s sake, Cree, Kade—stop—don’t do this.”

Cree paid her no mind, but glared at Kade, his eyes glinting with the demons she would have recognized in him long ago if she’d allowed herself to see him for what he was. All the suffering, all the pain, all the hatred, had taken root in his soul somewhere along the line, and rotted it away.

“Please, Cree,” she begged. “For me. For Mama. Put down the knife and let this be over.”

“You’re a traitor, Amanda Rose,” he snarled, without sparing Mandy a glance. “Shut up before I kill you myself.”

Mandy knew it was not an idle threat—the brother she’d known and loved was long gone—but she wasn’t afraid for herself, not yet anyway. “I love you, Kade McKettrick,” she blurted. “Do you hear me? I love you!”

Kade didn’t look at her. He was watching Cree, but the words he said found their way into the center of her soul: “I feel the same way about you, and I’m sorry as hell for getting you into this.”

Cree laid his free hand to his heart and made as if he would swoon. “Such tender sentiments,” he raved. Then he dropped the knife and hurled himself into Kade, like a sea storm striking land, tearing up everything in its path.

The struggle was ferocious; Kade and Cree both fell with the impact and rolled on the ground, Cree fueled by rage, Kade by sheer desperation and the will to survive. The sound of men and horses echoed into the hidden canyon, and the outlaws scattered, running for their own mounts, but the battle between Kade and Cree only intensified, growing fiercer with every blow, every grunt of pain, every gasped curse.

There were shouts in the gathering darkness, and gunshots, but Mandy didn’t so much as turn her head. She might as well have been in the center of the struggle between her brother and her husband, fighting right along with them.

They rolled close to the fire, back again, and then, suddenly, Cree was on top of Kade, getting him by the hair, slamming the back of his head hard onto a rock. He went still, and Cree groped for the discarded knife and raised it high in his right hand, where it caught the crimson light of the campfire.

Mandy took a step, stumbled over something, grabbed it up.

It was her own shotgun, brought to camp by the man who’d captured Kade. She felt her palm go moist as she gripped it, drew a bead on Cree, and shot him square in the chest.

K
ade opened his eyes, blinking, and watched, baffled, awash in his own blood and that of his enemy, as Cree flew to one side, his chest a sickening pulp, and landed on his back, his arms spread wide as if to embrace the night sky and gather it into his broken body, like a final communion.

“Mandy?” Kade sat upright, his head pounding, and looked wildly around in search of her. If she was dead—oh,
Christ,
if she was dead…

But she wasn’t. She was on her knees, a few feet away, the shotgun clasped in both hands, the barrel still smoking.

Kade went to her, half-crawling, threw the gun aside, and wrenched her into his arms, crushing her against his chest, wanting to take her inside himself and shield her with his own flesh. “Mandy,” he said again.

She shuddered, and he felt it in his own body. “I killed him,” she whispered. “I
killed
Cree—”

“Shhh,” Kade said, kissing her temple. The posse, led by Rafe, Jeb, and Holt, poured into camp. Kade saw his brothers out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t turn his head, and he didn’t let go of Mandy. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to unlock his arms.

She began to sob, clutching at his shirt, and he pressed her head into his shoulder, murmuring to her, his chin propped on the top of her head.

Rafe sprang down off his horse and walked slowly toward them. “Are either of you hurt?” The concern in his voice found a place deep inside Kade and took a firm hold.

He stood, raising Mandy up with him, supporting her, still with both arms, as he finally met his brother’s gaze. “Not where it would show,” he said. “Took your sweet time getting here, didn’t you?”

Rafe shook his head, swept off his hat, scanned the camp. “We got the bastards. Twenty-four of them. Bunch of one-legged roosters, they hardly put up a fight.” His gaze fell on Cree’s body lying shattered in the firelight, half-naked and gruesome with blood. “Jesus,” he breathed.

“I shot him,” Mandy said, straightening against Kade and wiping at her eyes with the back of one hand.

Kade stroked her hair, held her tighter, if that was possible, kissed the top of her head. “I need to get Mandy home,” he said to Rafe.

Rafe nodded. Several of the posse members were cutting Curry’s corpse free of its bonds, and Jeb and Holt came out of the cave about then, lugging a strongbox between them. The Wells Fargo name was painted on the side in gold letters that reflected the firelight. “We’ll ride with you,” Rafe said, laying a welcome hand to Kade’s shoulder.

Sam Fee stepped out of the darkness. “A bunch of us figured on taking the prisoners to the fort, where they can accommodate ’em,” he said to Kade. “That all right with you?”

“Yup,” Kade said. “I reckon the army’s beef with them is even bigger than ours, given those twelve soldiers they killed.”

Jeb and Holt set the strongbox down by the fire and opened it to examine the contents. “Looks like most of the money’s here,” Jeb said. There would be some celebrating tomorrow, Kade figured, but right now, there was too much blood for that.

“What about Cree?” Mandy asked, her voice small as she looked up into Kade’s face. “We can’t leave him behind.”

“We won’t,” Kade promised. He addressed Ben Hopper. “Get him back to town, will you? Take him to Doc’s office, for the time being.”

Ben nodded grimly, and he and another man, Wiley Kline from the newspaper office, found a blanket and rolled the body up inside it. Mandy watched bleakly as they laid her dead brother facedown across a saddle and secured him there with ropes.

Kade cupped her face in his hands and made her look at him. “What you did was a hard thing,” he said gruffly, “but you did it, and that’s that. You saved my life, and more importantly you saved your own. You’ve got to put this behind you, Mandy, and go on from here.”

She nodded, but she looked uncertain. “It’s a heavy load, Kade. Maybe too heavy.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll carry as much of it as you’ll allow me to,” he promised. “Now, let’s get you back to the Triple M, where you belong.”

She fell a little short of a smile, but it was the effort that counted. Someone had rounded up her horse, and Kade’s, and led them into camp, and he hoisted her into the saddle before climbing up behind her, reaching around her to take the reins. One of the ranch hands took charge of the other gelding.

She was asleep when they reached the Triple M several hours later, and Kade woke her gently. “We’re home,” he said.

She was limp as he handed her down to Holt, who held her until Kade had dismounted and taken her back again.

Angus, bandaged but ambulatory, waited in the kitchen, along with Concepcion, probably awakened by the arriving riders, and when Concepcion got a look at Mandy, then Kade, she put a hand to her mouth and cried out.

“What the devil?” Angus demanded, looking as if his ticker was about to give out on him then and there.

Jeb, coming in behind Kade and Mandy, closely followed by Rafe and Holt, who’d decided to join the posse when a ranch hand had come looking for his brothers, did the answering. “They tangled with those outlaws.” Jeb was lugging the strongbox, and he set it in the middle of the table. “Here’s your money, Pa. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we’d appreciate it if you’d manage things a little better from here on out.”

Angus stared at the box. “You got it back?” he marveled, sounding almost as if he were afraid to hope such a thing could be true.

“Kade did,” Jeb said. “And Mandy.”

“I’ll be hornswoggled,” said Angus, beaming.

Concepcion, ever practical, but clucking like a hen, was already busy at the stove, building up the fire, putting on coffee, sending Rafe and Holt for water to fill the reservoir for the washing up that would need to be done.

Kade was intent on just one thing: carrying Mandy up the stairs to their room, getting her undressed, looking her over for injuries. She was in shock, and she might have been hurt without realizing it.

She was shivering in one of his shirts, cold no matter how many blankets he added to the bed, when Concepcion knocked at the slightly open door and then admitted herself without waiting for an invitation. She carried a basin of steaming water, soap, and some clean cloth. “Go on downstairs, Kade,” she said quietly, but in a manner that brooked no objections. “You are covered in blood, in case you’ve forgotten, and your father will not rest until he sees how much of it is your own. I will attend to Mandy.”

Kade turned to his wife, his eyes questioning, and she nodded. “Don’t be long,” she said. “I reckon I’m going to need considerable holding in the next little while.”

He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the mouth. “I love you, Mandy McKettrick. When you start to sort all this through, take that into account.”

She smiled, and the effort it must have taken lodged in his heart like a splinter of steel. “I like the sound of that,” she said, stroking his cheek.

“Which part? The ‘I love you,’ or ‘Mandy McKettrick’?”

“One’s as good as the other,” she replied, and closed her eyes.